


Sandwiches, Pretty Women, and Bucky Barnes.

by biblio_witch



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, F/M, Fluff, I just want him to be happy, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Post - CA: Winter Soldier, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7278196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblio_witch/pseuds/biblio_witch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky, former Hydra assassin, is not quite used to the 21st Centuries sandwiches or women.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sandwiches, Pretty Women, and Bucky Barnes.

**Author's Note:**

> Yooo hiya literally I'm posting this at 3AM so I haven't edited yet but I'll get that done tomorrow. ALSO this fic is based in England because I'm not sure how shops in America work and so I thought I'd make it easier for myself by just setting it in England lol. Okay hope you enjoy.

Sneaking into a very large hospital probably wasn't the best idea Bucky had ever had. These days they were full of cameras, full of questions and full of well-meaning doctors. Hell, during the war a bullet wound was often remedied with a swig of whisky and a dirty bandage. They did just fine with that practice. Why did everyone have to be so... Helpful? 

Thankfully, he was in England when those ex-Hydra agents had snuffed out his trail. He'd been hiding out in the country for a while, and had taken the time to forge a few meager documents to prove he was a British national. It didn't take much else to get a foot in the door of the NHS, which very generously provided free health care. A very good idea, if Bucky thought so himself. Especially when the fucking knife wound in his side had done a classic job of shattering his ribs. 

If he'd been anywhere else, he'd have had to suffer through the pain. At the very least he'd have had to steal the money to pay for a doctor. Shattered ribs didn't lift his foul mood, to say the least. If he'd still been in America, Bucky might have had to rob a bank just to pay for an X-Ray, and paying out of his ass while also writhing in pain would have been a very shitty day indeed.

Luckily, no bank robbing was needed. 

When he stumbled into the emergency room, trying his best to look like he wasn't about to pass out, a nurse was promptly there to aid him into a chair and get his details. When she asked what had happened, he said he'd fallen on some tools in his garage - A lie he'd already concocted before arriving. The address he gave was legit; a very grim flat in a very grim tower block that he'd been renting for only three weeks. They would send a letter to that address, the nurse told him, giving him follow up appointments and the like, but he almost definitely wouldn't be there when the letters arrived. 

Given the fact he was close to passing out with the pain, he was seen to in under half an hour. A doctor examined him - looking ruffled at Bucky's refusal to remove his shirt and the thin gloves covering his palms (A rare skin irritation, Bucky explained to the irritated woman) - pumped him full of pain meds, and sent him on his way to have an X-Ray, that lasted only fifteen minutes, and the consultation afterwards was straight forward. 

He'd only fractured three ribs - okay, so maybe he'd been being a little dramatic - but the wound did need stitches. There was nothing to be done about the bones, but she gave him a piece of paper with a list of things to do to help along the healing process and lessen the pain in the mean time.

The doctor - who'd already clocked on about Bucky being a difficult patient - insisted he stay overnight for observation. Bucky fended her off as best he could, making up a sick wife at home that needed to be cared for. The doctor, after much muttered irritation, nodded her consent for him to leave.

With a sigh, Bucky finally managed to hustle out of the ward, nodding to a group of giggling nurses who'd been very attentive while he'd waited for the doctor. He was sure they'd just been doing their jobs when they'd offered - more than once - to remove his shirt to improve his comfort. One nurse, a young blonde man, gave him a suggestive wink as he signed Bucky's sheet to say he could leave. The others - three women and another man - called enthusiastic goodbyes to him, and they all ducked back into the office with a crusade of giggling when he gave them a parting smile.

The elevator was cramped, and sweat beaded his forehead from the mixture of body heat and actual heat. Especially with his gloves. Fucking fur lined, absolute joke. 

It was probably about seven in the evening, and only when he was passing a brightly lit store on the ground floor did he feel his stomach rumble. The day had been beyond draining, what with all the violence and the pain, and when he checked his pockets he found a few British notes crumpled up. He'd stripped those Hydra agents of anything useful, and many of them had carried cash on them in the event that they'd have to split up and find a way out on their own. Bucky would be comfortable for a good long while, if he was careful. Of course, he'd left all the money back at his flat before coming to the hospital, so it was a good job he hadn't washed these jeans in a while, or he might have almost passed out a second time. 

The store was pretty big, and it was significantly cooler in here. He breathed a sigh of relief as he went looking for something sustainable. Meat. Anything with meat in it. Preferably bacon, but he'd settle for anything. Chocolate too, God he fucking adored chocolate. 

He made his way to the open, glowing refrigerator at the back of the room, thankful that the store was mostly empty due to it being late. He had to squeeze by a woman up a ladder to get to the sandwiches, but he'd probably have kicked a toddler out of the way if it meant him getting something in his stomach. 

The choices were poor - the refrigerator half empty - and the only options were tuna, cheese and prawn. What the fuck was prawns doing inside bread? The 21st century was a shit show. 

But to his utter and complete joy, there was a BLT sandwich on the floor just beyond the ladder the woman was stood on. As he watched, she chucked more food onto the pile after scanning it with a small device.

_Please be edible, please, please._

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Bucky's voice came out louder than he'd expected in his excitement, and caused catastrophe. 

The woman jumped in fright and also tried to twist towards him at the same time. The motions did not go well together, and before Bucky's very eyes, her feet got twisted up with each other, and she pitched face first off the ladder.

Before Bucky could even really consider, his body automatically rushed to aid. His metal arm was of course faster, so that's what he reached with. 

Her ribs hit his forearm with a considerable thud, and she released a small wretch of pain that had him wincing. He might have saved her a broken nose, but he'd probably just replaced it with bruised ribs.

She dangled for a moment, feet still on the ladder and torso braced on his arm, letting loose a squeak of fear, before Bucky wrapped his other arm around her waist and lifted her until she was once again vertical, and then he set her, very gently, on the ground.

She brushed back a veil of dark, wavy hair, breathing heavy and a little shaky.

Bucky blinked, realising that the woman was younger than he'd first assumed, and well... Quite pretty. Very pretty. Approaching beautiful. Surpassing it, really, with a casual wave. Bucky inhaled sharply in the wake of such pure radiance. 

"Shit on a fucking stick, dude!" She exclaimed, and okay, less radiant. "I honestly saw my fucking life flash before my eyes." 

Bucky, despite himself, felt a smile inch onto his face. It made his cheeks ache, because they were so unaccustomed to such emotion. He felt the muscles awaken with little protest. It felt... Nice. 

"Are you all right?" He asked, concerned, because she was clasping her forehead and still gasping. 

"I dunno," She seemed to think about it for a moment, then shook herself as if to make sure. "Yeah, but _shit_ that hurt, what are you, made of metal?"

If he'd been a less cautious man, Bucky would have ripped off his glove to show her just how ironic that question was.

The Winter Soldier, however, was not in the business of making beautiful women laugh. Bucky Barnes had been, he thought, but his memories of that were still hazy. There were many pretty faces back then, and they all seemed to blur together now. Had he made them laugh? Were the rules even still the same? 

Was he seriously agonizing over this? He was an assassin for fuck's sake. 

She was still staring - with eyes as big and as blue as a cerulean ocean ( _Really,_ Barnes, comparisons to the ocean? Original.) - so he smiled at her again. 

"Not particularly." He shook his head. "My muscles _are_ pretty impressive though." 

Her eyes swept him in response to the cocky statement, and Bucky felt a warmth in the very pit of his stomach as her full eyebrows, carefully sculpted, climbed higher up her forehead. Her lips, pale pink in the harsh light of the store, parted on a sharply inhaled breath. 

All the eating had paid off, apparently. Hydra had never fed him much, and since he'd been free he'd indulged accordingly to compensate. He probably ate four times the required calorie intake per day. Not to mention all the working out, mostly to ensure he didn't lose his edge against any Hydra agents coming to return him to his icy prison.

"Mother of-" She murmured, staring at the expanse of his chest. Her eyes flicked up, like she only then remembered he even had a face, and when their gazes brushed, she turned a very flattering shade of pink. She cleared her throat, "Yeah, impressive." 

Smug, Bucky smirked. He thought he was beyond being proud of women's approval; but everyone liked to be appreciated once in a while. 

"What's an American doing in the South West, anyway?" One dark eyebrow inched higher than the other, and her stare was a little accusatory. He was in the South West of England? He wasn't even sure what city he was in, but the accents certainly weren't cockney; He'd heard much of those in the war. Funny accents, the British had. He'd known someone from Liverpool too, and he'd spent half his time lost in the conversations he'd had with the man. 

"Do you not like Americans?" He asked, curious. 

She appraised him again and grinned, cocksure. "I do now." 

Unbelievably, Bucky felt a blush creep past his ears and into his cheeks. He hoped to God that he'd just been poisoned by some hidden Hydra agent, because he would just fucking die if he was actually blushing at this tiny slip of a dame. Her head didn't even reach his chin for fuck's sake. He was the _Winter Soldier._  

He cleared his throat, and she hid a snicker behind her hand. All right, so she'd spotted the blush. Still time to rescue this shit show. He opened his mouth, hoping something witty would hop out, but silence stretched. He went a brighter shade of red. 

"I was just asking," She saved him, and Bucky heaved a sigh of relief. "Devon isn't really the holiday destination of a lifetime." 

Devon? What was that? Maybe that's the city he was in. Or state. No, Britain didn't have states. Fuck. 

"I live here." He wasn't sure why he said it - He knew full well he was only passing through, on his way to Europe to hide in the depths of a peaceful country. Maybe he'd visit Russia first to enact some revenge, but then he'd settle down somewhere. Somewhere warm. 

"Oh?" That surprised her. 

"Yeah, I hurt myself today. Had to get patched up." 

"Pull one of your many muscles?" She smirked. 

All right, so this woman's advances in sarcasm and confidence far outstretched the meager remains left over from Bucky Barnes's charm. Hydra had taken that swagger away, and though Bucky felt it flare in his chest in response to those glittering eyes, plump lips and curved waist, he was rusty. Out of his depth. 

Sure, he knew how to kill a man with his own thumb but he couldn't talk to a _female_. Pathetic. 

The best he could do was force a chuckle, but she seemed too busy laughing at her own joke to realise his discomfort anyway, and for that he was grateful. 

"Meira!" 

She - Meira, he assumed - jumped and spun to face an older woman who'd popped her head around the corner of a stand full to the brim with candy. She had a severe scowl on her face, and Meira wilted at the sight of it. Bucky frowned. 

"Yeah, Vic?"

"You've got a job to do." The snap was harsh, but her smile was bright when she turned to face Bucky. "Sorry sir, she gets distracted easily. I hope she wasn't bothering you."  

"She wasn't." His response was cold. 

Vic didn't seem to notice. "It'll probably be quicker dealing with me. Anything I can help you with?" 

"No." 

Being an assassin had it's quirks, and most of them were locked up in the intimidating scowl he mastered without a second thought. It came second nature to him now, and it was usually in place without him even realising. It warded off strangers, stopped people from wandering too near. It was a good asset. 

Vic, robust as she was, shrank back involuntarily at the stare. She turned to leave, swallowing, but turned back at the last moment. "Get back to work." She snapped at Meira. 

Meira, credit to her, stuck up her middle finger at her colleague's back. Bucky's newly discovered smile blossomed again, and it came easier this time. 

She brushed herself down then, eyes on the floor. She shook herself for the second time, though this time it seemed to him like she was instead bracing herself for the conversation. 

When she looked at him again, she gave him a smile that seemed practiced and a little strained. 

"What can I do for you?" 

He'd completely forgotten about him being the one to actually cause the fall and the sandwich he'd been too excited about. 

"Oh. Right, yeah. Uh... Are you still selling those sandwiches?" He pointed, and she glanced over. Her eyebrows scrunched, wrinkling her forehead. Bucky didn't think he'd ever described something as adorable but... His masculinity could probably handle it on this one occasion. 

"Oh!" She seemed overly perky now, and he suspected this was how she had to be with all her customers. "Well, my boss has me throw them away when they go out of date." 

"They're out of date?" 

"They will be tomorrow, they're still good to eat today." 

"So..." He squinted, "I can still buy one?" 

She glanced down at the little device, still clutched in her manicured hand, and checked something. She looked up, pursed her lips at him, and glanced around to pinpoint Vic's position in the shop. She was nowhere to be seen. 

"Take it." 

"What?" 

"Just take it. Anything else there too, if you want." She shrugged her narrow shoulders. She was small, but sturdy, this woman. Thick thighs, toned arms, not to mention, that ass had certainly seen some squats - not that he'd noticed her ass - but still, she was probably only 5'2". 

"I-..." Bucky frowned, "You lost me." 

Meira gave a long-suffering sigh, and he knew she probably dealt with hundreds of stupid customers a day. 

"Look, my boss is a real hardass." Her gaze was tinged with a steely anger. "And a cheapskate. He could reduce all of this stuff so none of it goes to waste, but he'd rather chuck it in the bin than stop people paying out of their asses for a sandwich. As long as I've scanned it on here to say it's been destroyed, then there's no way for him to know I've given it to you for free." 

"I can just... Have it?" 

"Call it a thank you." She gave him a smile, a proper one, and Bucky was knocked unsteady by something so divine. "Technically, you caused the fall, but you also saved me from smashing face first into the floor. Could you imagine me with a crooked nose? Or two missing front teeth?" 

"I don't think it would much hinder all that beauty, ma'am." Bucky paused, unsure if he'd said it out loud or just in his mind, but that shade of pink crept immediately back into her cheeks, and Bucky gave himself a well-deserved pat on the back. 

"I know." The blush was gone, and her voice was steady. "But it would drop me from like, a 10, to a 9.5. From 'divine-Goddess' to a mere 'out-of-this-world-stunning', and I can't be having that now, can I?" 

He was absolutely certain women hadn't been like this before the war. Not that they hadn't been sharp, or beautiful, or intelligent. But women had never left him reeling like he'd taken a punch. Maybe it was his lack of practice. But maybe, like all things, women had evolved. Maybe women didn't need compliments anymore. They didn't need the permission or the approval of men. 

Peggy Carter hadn't, certainly - he'd read about her, and while a few memories had drifted back to him, they weren't complete. He remembered vividly that crimson lipstick though. But she'd been an exception. She didn't want a husband. She didn't want compliments. She was endlessly gifted, in all manner of things, her beauty was just an added extra. Bottom of the list, and first thing to be surrendered when she'd crossed into enemy territory to help fight the war, dirty and bloody as the rest of them. 

He saw that same fire now, in Meira, a simple shop keeper, confident in herself and the knowledge that she didn't need him to tell her what she already knew. 

Bucky decided he very much liked the evolution of women. He'd check the internet - his go-to resource these days - for changes in the female culture when he got home. 

"9.5 would be tragic." He agreed, "Of course, I've never known the feeling, but I'm sure you could get used to it." 

Meira laughed. "I'm sure." Rolling her eyes, she shimmied past him to stand by the pile of discarded food and the black bag sitting next to it. "Now, before you get too cocky and I decide to revoke my mighty generosity, you better pick something to eat." 

Bucky bent to comb through the pile, immediately yanking free a BLT. After some deliberation, he picked a brownie, a pot of fruit, and some chicken bites.

She was waiting with the black bag when he stood up and presented her with his choices. She frowned.

"That's barely a meal for someone your size. Take more than one."

"I've got four."

"I meant more than one of the same thing." She pointed. Bucky was unwilling to make a real dent in the pile, mostly because he was aware that she'd almost definitely get in trouble. She continued to stare though, so he stooped to get more chicken bites. He began to straighten, spotted her glower, and took another brownie. Another twitch of her lips, and he pocketed three more. 

"You know I'm not homeless, right?" He asked when he straightened, struggling to shove his spoils into his various pockets.

"I would never have guessed, under all that hair." The smile she gave him - gentle, with no scorn at all - took any insult from the words.

"Rude." He said still, if only to needle her.

"Hey, beards are in right now." She relented, and chuckled. "As are man-buns."

Man-bun? What the fuck? He added it to his internet list.

"Really though, I can pay."

"Absolutely not." She shook her head, swishing the dark waves of her hair this way and that. "You saved me, I want to say fuck you to my boss and his spiteful daughter, and this counts as my act of kindness for the day. You're doing me a favour."

Sighing, he nodded. Well, if she insisted. He wasn't gonna turn down free food.

"I'll repay the kindness." He told her. He wasn't sure why; He didn't intend on coming back. In fact, he intended on packing up and hustling out of the country as soon as he returned home. But... But she'd been kind when she didn't have to be, she'd made him smile, she'd even coaxed some croaky laughs from his throat.

In fact, this small, beautiful woman had been the very first to show him even an ounce of kindness in seventy years. To look on at him without fear or intimidation. To treat him like a person and not a wild animal. She'd think differently if she could see the arm, but he didn't much mind imagining her deciding that it wasn't monstrous. 

"Honestly dude, just staring at you for a few minutes has been a treat. I thought your level of beauty only existed in books." 

There was that damn fucking blush again. Beauty though? Was she staring at the same face he saw in the mirror? At the scruffy, lank hair and stubble, the shadowed eyes, hollow cheeks, the pale complexion? Was she lying to be polite? 

But there was a surety in her eyes, a boldness that impressed him and terrified him at the same time. Could she truly find him... Beautiful? This body wrecked by war and neglect? 

Before his good sense could stop him, Bucky had already opened his mouth. 

"Is there food to throw away every day?" 

Meira's head tilted imploringly to one side. "Usually, yes." 

"Are you... Always the one to throw it away?" 

"Not always." She seemed lost, unsure now. 

Why was he beating around the bush? Just fucking ask, you big asshat. 

"Will you be here tomorrow?" It was nothing more than a burst of jumbled sounds, and he had to repeat himself twice before she could actually make out the words. 

Her eyes widened, and he feared for a moment that she'd backtrack, apologise for misleading him, she had a boyfriend, a girlfriend, anything to stop the advances of one scruffy, scary stranger. 

But, to his surprise, she huffed a delicate laugh. "Yes, I'll be here tomorrow." 

"Will you be here every day?" 

"I work Monday to Friday, 3 until 9 every day. Usually throw out the food around 7.30." 

"It's a date." He said, without thinking. She squinted at him and he began to spew apologies, turning beet red and flustered under her heavy gaze. 

"That'd make a really shitty date." But she was smiling again.

He nodded, and thought it best to flee before he could put his other big foot in his big mouth.

"I should go." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the door.

"I should get back to work." She agreed, nodding to the refrigerator.

 "I'll... See you tomorrow?" It was hopeful, eager, even to his own ears. Shit in fucking hell, she must have thought him a complete and utter moron. 

"Tomorrow." She agreed. "Meira, by the way. Officially. Meira Walker." 

She stuck out her hand, the right one, so Bucky sighed with relief as he reached with his own, real right hand. 

"Bucky. Bucky Barnes." 

They said their goodbyes, and Bucky trudged from the store, excited and apprehensive about returning the next day. Sure, he'd implied it was only for the free food, but it didn't take a damn genius to know that Bucky was going soft around the edges. So what if he did, anyway? Maybe it'd be worth it. 

But it didn't escape his notice, not even for a moment, that it had been seventy years since somebody had touched him gently. That somebody had laid hands on this body without the intention to hurt or kill. That one little clasp of hands had unleashed a flood of light and warmth in his chest, and Bucky didn't want that feeling snuffed out all too soon. 

Silently, he wiped a tear from his rough, hairy cheek and pulled his BLT from the inside of his jacket. He wasn't sure if it was just a really good sandwich, or he was actually, literally high from excitement, because it was the best fucking sandwich he'd ever eaten in his life.  


End file.
